


never coming home

by rainbowsandgucci



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Angst, Crying, Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys, Dystopia, Fluff, Happy Ending, Harry and Louis are the leaders of the rebellion, M/M, Marriage, Rebellion, Revolution, War, kind of, petnames
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-06-29 15:33:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15732315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainbowsandgucci/pseuds/rainbowsandgucci
Summary: “You alright love?”Louis sighs, and nods, still keeping his head rested on Harry’s shoulder. “Yeah, better now that we’re here.”Harry smiles then, just a little, and reaches his left hand over to grab Louis’ left as well, so their rose and dagger tattoos that they’d both gotten at the start of the Revolution are showing.“Always better together, my Honeyed Dagger.”Louis huffs out a quiet laugh, and squeezes Harry’s hand. “Let’s go to bed, Cyanide Rose.”Later, after the lantern has been blown out and their emotions have been sated, Louis presses a kiss to Harry’s chest, and whispers into the darkness. “What if you hadn’t come home?”Harry’s quiet for awhile, before finally squeezing Louis just a little bit closer to him, and whispering back, “Then you know where to find me.”





	never coming home

**Author's Note:**

> so here i am again, back at it with the angsty one shots.
> 
> this fic is heavily influenced by the song los angeles by blink 182, with a little dash of mcr's danger days era, and i regret absolutely nothing
> 
> @cara tysm for betaing for me i owe you my life <3

Explosions.

Gunshots.

Screaming.

The whirring of a helicopter’s blades, and the brightness of the searchlight attached to it.

The sounds and the lights only urge Harry to run faster, until eventually, they’re far enough away that he considers it safe —enough— to duck behind the crumbling shell of a once towering building to catch his breath. He waits a moment, makes sure he’s alone, and there was no one chasing after him, before he leans back against the wall behind him, and attempts to steady his breathing.

As he stands there, he reaches underneath his facemask and winces as he brushes over the cut on his lip. One of his opponents had actually wound up landing a punch for once, and he’s pleasantly surprised. Suddenly, the distant sound of an explosion comes, and he silently curses because there goes another meeting place. The bridge they’d just met beneath to increase morale, and host fights, was now more than likely nothing but rubble. It’s lucky, he supposes, that it’s only the building that’s gone, and not people, but it’s a lot of bloody work trying to find someplace that hundreds of people can fit without being trapped, so he’s still annoyed.

An hour passes, and eventually he deems it safe enough to leave his hiding spot, heading South, and away from the center of the city.

Well. What’s left of the city anyway.

Los Angeles had once been one of the busiest cities in the world; always filled with people and parties and chaos. Now, the only time that existed, was under the cover of nightfall, whenever Harry and his friends deemed it safe enough for large groups of people to meet up. Even then, they usually only lasted until three AM, because the noise always alerted the government’s Grunts to their whereabouts, and everyone had to make themselves scarce.

Halfway to his destination, the old phone in his pocket begins to vibrate. It’s one of only seven left on the continent that the government can’t track. He ignores it, because the last thing he needs right now, wandering around in the dark, is a fucking light to draw attention to himself with.

Eventually, an old office building comes into view, and he heads inside. It’s literally one wrong move away from completely falling apart at this point, so he’s careful as he ducks in the doorway. He weaves his way between old cubicles, useless computers, piles of rubble and garbage, all left over from the first wave of the Revolution, until he finds the corner he knows the trapdoor is under. 

He heads inside, making sure the trapdoor is secure above him, before carefully beginning his descent. The scent down here is much better, it’s cooler, and he can feel himself slowly beginning to lose the need to look over his shoulder the closer he gets to the old metal door at the bottom of the stairs.

It’s enclosed and cramped enough that should anyone undesired find it, they’d have no room to fit anything that could break the door down, and thanks to the seven different locks on the outside that he slowly starts to enter the passcodes for, there’s no way they’d be able to get in that way either. Once those are all undone, he knocks (three open palmed taps, two closed fist, and four common raps), and waits.

A moment later, there’s the sound of the other seven locks on the inside being undone, and a moment later, the door is swinging open.

As soon as it’s opened, Harry’s assaulted by a body throwing themself at him, and it’s only the last several years of living this way that give him the reflexes to catch them, and stay steady instead of falling backwards onto the stairs. It takes a moment, but eventually he makes out the words coming from the boy in his arms.

“You fucking bastard, you absolute _idiot_ , I heard fucking explosions and you took the phone, couldn’t even fucking message Neon, didn’t know if—” Harry cuts him off with a kiss; lifts his face mask away and presses his chapped lips to the soft lips of his boy, as he pushes him backwards so they’re inside. Once they are, he pulls away, and begins redoing the locks immediately.

“I’m fine Honey, it’s okay. No one was hurt.”

Louis just scoffs, and turns on his heel to storm away. Harry sighs, and finishes up the locks, before turning and following him into the bedroom. He pulls off his mask as he goes, tossing it onto the old couch sitting in the corner by the small table, and then pulls off his black T-shirt as he goes. When he reaches their bedroom, illuminated by the lantern in the corner, Louis is already on the bed, sitting cross legged and watching him as he sits on the edge of the bed to pull off his combat boots.

“What was the explosion?”

Harry sighs, as he sets his boots together at the side of the bed, within easy reach should he need them. “The bridge.”

“Sixth street?”

Harry nods, and Louis sighs then, too. “Well now what?”

Harry shrugs. “Dunno. Me, Sizzle ‘n Bullet looked at a couple of other places a few weeks ago just in case. Maybe the riverside.”

Louis is quiet for a moment, then, there’s shuffling as he moves to sit next to Harry. His lips come to rest on Harry’s right shoulder, next to the scrawled, messy identification tattoo that spelled out CYANIDE. He’d gotten it nearly five years ago now, after leading wave one of the Revolutions, during which his weapon of choice had been cyanide bombs.

“Have you checked the phone yet? Arrow’s probably driving Neon insane.” Harry snorts, but pulls the phone from his pocket, finally looking at the series of messages he’d received from Liam since running from the meetup.

_Cyanide, Honey, status?_

_Cyanide, status?_

_C, are you alive?_

He quickly types out a response ( _Cyanide, status: Alive. Honey, status: Alive. Requesting update on Neon, Ferrari, and Bullet._ ) then turns to look at Louis.

“You alright love?”

Louis sighs, and nods, still keeping his head rested on Harry’s shoulder. “Yeah, better now that we’re here.”

Harry smiles then, just a little, and reaches his left hand over to grab Louis’ left as well, so their rose and dagger tattoos that they’d both gotten at the start of the Revolution are showing.

“Always better together, my Honeyed Dagger.”

Louis huffs out a quiet laugh, and squeezes Harry’s hand. “Let’s go to bed, Cyanide Rose.”

Later, after the lantern has been blown out and their emotions have been sated, Louis presses a kiss to Harry’s chest, and whispers into the darkness. “What if you hadn’t come home?”

Harry’s quiet for awhile, before finally squeezing Louis just a little bit closer to him, and whispering back, “Then you know where to find me.”

\---

_One Month Later, Midnight:_

Harry sucks in a breath, adrenaline running through him at the loud noise he can hear, just on the other side of the large tarp that’s been hung from the branches of several large trees, to separate the crowd from the Leaders.

Even behind the tarp, the excitement is palpable. Niall’s been talking about a mile a minute since he arrived, Clare has been grinning like a madwoman for about an hour now, and Louis has clung to Harry so hard that Harry’s beginning to seriously consider just taking him home now.

He won’t, of course, his love for the people he leads is too strong for that, but it’s a nice thought anyway.

Besides, it’s been just over two weeks since the last meetup, and that’s far too long to go without being able to watch or participate in any fights.

Just then, Bebe begins speaking into her megaphone. She talks a few minutes, tells them how the alarm system works for when the Grunts inevitably show up, hypes them up, and then…

“Everyone let out a loud, and fuckin’ _chaotic_ cheer, for your leaders, the Gods of the New Society, Cyanide Rose, and Honeyed Dagger!”

Louis’ hand grasps Harry’s, and the tarp is momentarily lifted to let them through.

As soon as they’re visible, the crowd’s noise heightens, and Harry squeezes Louis’ hand once as they walk into the center of the chaos. Their heads are held high, their clothes are flashy, their tattoos and piercings everything the government hates, and they’re _proud_.

Once in the center, Bebe offers Harry the megaphone. As soon as it’s in his hands, the crowd quiets considerably, and Harry grins as he squeezes Louis’ hand once again, before letting go and taking a step forward, the megaphone raised to his mouth.

“People of the New Society, welcome. It’s good to see so many faces, especially after so long without.” There’s a murmur of agreement, and he looks around before continuing. “As you all know, it’s been a bit of a trial finding somewhere new to host the meetups, now that the sixth street bridge is gone.” There’s a hush, and everyone’s faces have turned grim. Harry tsks in response, and begins walking around the cleared area. “Don’t be discouraged though, think of it as a...new beginning.”

He pauses, and looks out into the crowd once more before continuing. “This is a new chapter. One we will all accept, and take in stride. We’ve had our safety taken away from us before, and what did we do?”

There’s a ripple that runs through the crowd, everyone’s rapt attention on Harry alone, and he grins, before loudly stating, “We took it back!” A cheer erupts from the crowd, and Harry waits for it to die, smiling the entire while, before continuing, counting each point with a finger as he continues to pace.

“They’ve tried to take our homes. They’ve tried to take our peace of mind, our freedom, our individuality. But they haven’t succeeded, have they?”

He gestures out towards the crowd, who collectively scream, _no!_

Nodding, continues, his voice rising with passion as he does. “And they never will! They’ll never take our heart, our soul, our free _fucking_ will! They can do their worst; can set off bombs and chase us with guns and fucking _poison_ and they can try and try to take away our freedom but they _can’t_ and they _won’t_ , because we’ve got each other’s backs! As long as we keep our sense of unity, our pride, and our wits about us, the bloody awful excuse for a _government_ can go fuck themselves, because they’ll never fucking win.”

As soon as the last word leaves Harry’s lips, the crowd goes _insane_. They’re shouting, chanting, _screaming_ , and as they do, Harry yells with them. He feels on top of the world; his people in front of him, Louis always by his side, and the Revolution at his fingertips.

Eventually, he turns to look at Louis, winks, and gets a cheeky grin in return. Then, he turns back to the crowd, and raises the megaphone again. As soon as he does, they quiet down again.

“You’re all my favorite fuckin’ people, Long Live the New Society!” They all yell again, their voices all joining in a resounding chorus of “We have pride in our New Gods!” Harry nods, an ecstatic grin on his face. “And with that said, I know you’re all here for a fucking reason, so let the bloody fights begin!”

With a grin, he walks backwards, until he’s next to Bebe and Louis again. He hands the megaphone back to Bebe. “You have the floor Ferrari.”

Bebe just shakes her head, takes the megaphone, and runs to the clearing. “People of the New Society, are you ready to fuckin’ _fight_?!”

As the crowd gets loud again, Harry turns to Louis, who pulls him closer, and lifts his mask just enough to kiss him. It’s messy, fucking _filthy_ , and as they kiss, people close to them start whooping and hollering, and eventually, Louis pulls away, grinning, with his body still pressed close to Harry’s.

“Have I ever told you just how god damn hot I think you are, Mister Rose?”

Harry laughs, and leans forward, so his mouth is next to Louis’ ear. “You might ‘ave, but my memory escapes me. Remind me Honey?”

Louis laughs, then pulls away. “Later C, don’t you want to watch the fights?”

Harry groans, but grabs Louis’ hand, and nods. “We’ll go watch, but you’re not leaving my side unless I decide to join in, got it?”

Louis just laughs, and it’s the most beautiful sound Harry’s ever heard.

\--

Explosions.

Gunshots.

Screaming.

Harry’s running again, though this time, hand in hand with the love of his life.

Behind them, around them, there’s the sounds of gunshots and sirens flying through the air.

They’d stayed as long as they could, making sure everyone else got away safely before the Grunts actually arrived. Harry had tried to get Louis to run before him, but like he did every time, Louis refused.

They reach a tunnel, and as they run through it, things get quieter and quieter, until they reach the end, and the sounds of bullets and helicopters whirring are just a distant thing.

After a few moments of panting, Louis looks up at Harry, his bright blue eyes even more prominent than usual because of the gold makeup surrounding them. “Was there anyone following?” He waits for Harry to shake his head, before pushing him up against the wall of the tunnel, standing on his toes, and moving both their masks out of the way so he can kiss him.

They kiss until they’re breathless; Louis’ hands on either side of Harry’s face, and Harry’s hands gripping Louis’ waist tight like a lifeline, because he’s just as desperate as Louis is.

When they finally do pull away, they’re still panting, but for different reasons, and Louis presses his chest to Harry’s, his face hidden in his neck.

Harry just pulls him closer, and they stand there until nearly five AM, letting the chaos swallow them whole.

\---

_One Month Later, Two AM:_

The atmosphere in the room is tense.

Harry and Louis are seated side by side at the table, in a location picked by Harry, that only their closest confidants know about.

Niall, Zayn, Liam, Bebe, Clare, Sarah, and Steve are also sitting around the table, their faces grim.

Steve and Sarah are sitting side by side as well, as both of them are their insiders, holding jobs within the government.

Steve looks at Harry, who nods. Steve takes that as the permission it is, and begins speaking.

“Over the course of the last few months, the government has gotten more and more cautious. They’re aware that our meetups are becoming more frequent, and they’ve become more aware of our patterns. It’s getting more and more dangerous for us to host meetups, and I’m afraid soon this may result in deaths. It’s been more than a year since we’ve lost anyone Cyanide, I don’t want to start having to count bodies for you again.”

When Harry doesn’t say anything, Louis addresses Steve. “Why’s it getting harder for you to tell us when Grunts are arriving? The last few meetups there’s barely been a fifteen minute warning. Everyone’s used to half an hour, and they’re getting scared.”

Sarah sighs. “Within the last month, they’ve begun to keep information within the highest circle of commanders. Delirium and I suspect they’re expecting the third wave of the Resistance.”

Louis sits back with a defeated huff. “Well what the fuck do we do now?”

They’re all silent, and all look at Harry, who so far, hasn’t said a word. After a moment of silent deliberation, Harry looks up at first Steve, then Sarah. “They’re scared.”

Sarah nods. “Yes. Enough that they’re strengthening their weak spots, recruiting more, and diminishing the amount of people that know their secrets.”

Harry nods once, then, with a note of finality lacing his tone, “We’ll move up the third wave, then.”

Zayn lets out a disbelieving sound, and shakes his head. “I’m not sure that’s the best idea C.”

Harry shrugs. “Would you much rather wait it out, Neon? Let them begin catching us individually? Until there aren’t enough of us _for_ a third wave?”

Zayn opens his mouth to retort, but is interrupted before he can get a word out.

“I agree with Cyanide.” Everyone looks at Louis, then, and he shrugs. “He’s right. The sooner this happens, the more caught off guard the government will be. It’s wise.”

They’re all silent, none of them daring to dispute Honey’s logic, on account of both his and Harry’s rath. Finally, Harry nods, and squeezes Louis’ thigh once. “You heard him. The voice of reason. In one week we will rise instead of hosting a meetup.”

When no one goes to argue, he stands, extending his hand to Louis to help him up. As he does, he looks around the room, then nods.

“Long live the New Society.”

The other seven people in the room nod, and raise their fists.

“We have pride in our New Gods.”

\---

_One Week Later, Midnight, Six Hours Until the Third Wave:_

Louis’ finger delicately runs over Harry’s closed eyelid, as he carefully applies the red makeup that the Cyanide Rose is so famous for. Harry’s already applied Louis’, the gold around his eyes making him look absurdly regal.

With a sigh, Louis lifts his finger from Harry’s face, and leans back in his chair. “All done, my Rose.”

Harry opens his eyes, smiling softly when they met Louis’ own. “Do I look pretty darling?”

Louis laughs, but nods indulgently. “Of course. Pretty and deadly. Just like the leader of a Revolution.”

Harry just shakes his head, but lets out a soft laugh. “As do you.” Louis swallows, and averts his gaze from Harry’s. Not long after, Harry’s hand comes up to grip Louis’ chin, so he can meet his eyes again. After a minute of searching Louis’ eyes, Harry leans forward and presses a chaste kiss to the corner of Louis’ lips. “I love you.”

The corner of Louis’ eyes begin to dampen with tears, and he leans forward to rest his head on Harry’s chest. “I love you too.”

After awhile, they moved from their chairs to their bed. They spent the rest of the hour like that, wrapped up in each other, cherishing their last few moments of peace.

Somehow, as they kissed and touched and _felt_ each other, Harry could tell this would be the last time they’d lay like that, in their little home beneath the ground.

\---

_Two Months Later, Somewhere in California:_

The door slams against the wall as Harry enters the building, eyes wild as he searches out a familiar face. When he finally spots Clare, across the room and looking concerned as she speaks to someone Harry doesn’t care to recognize, he makes a beeline for her.

She knows he’s coming before he reaches her, and the expression on her face is exactly what would be expected of someone who’s about to talk to someone _incredibly_ important, and also happens to be _incredibly_ pissed off.

When he finally reaches her, he's glaring, and one hand is tightly clenched into a fist as he attempts to control his temper. “Where is he?”

Clare licks her lips, and averts her gaze. “He’s...somewhere in the building.”

Harry exhales sharply through his nose, and takes a step closer to her, making sure every inch of height he has over her is felt. In the last two months of fighting the government, his muscles have become more defined, his hair is cut short, and his facial hair has grown out. He looks intimidating, he _knows_ he does, and while normally he wouldn’t even think of treating one of his friends this way, the circumstances are anything _but_ normal.

“Majo, it is a testament to how much I respect you, and value our friendship that I’m staying calm right now. But if you don’t tell me where he is within the next _five seconds_ , you don’t even want to know what I’ll do.”

She sucks in a breath, but nods. “He’s in the main office.”

Harry breathes in, then out; once, twice, and then nods in return. “Thank you. You’re dismissed.”

Harry steps around her, not looking back to see if she’d obey —she would— and is halfway down the hall before she calls out, “Wait!”

He turns his head just enough to show she has his attention, and she takes the hint. “How...How’s Dagger?”

She sounds scared to ask, and Harry _hates_ that. Hates everything about this stupid Revolution, no matter how necessary it is. He turns his body, to properly look at her.

“He’s alive.”

She nods, and he continues on his way. Sitting in the office, hopefully conscious, is the person who’d put a bullet in Louis. The person that Harry cares about most in this whole goddamn world, is lying in a bed, in pain, fighting for his life, because of the heartless, wretched man that’s currently waiting to meet Harry.

When Harry reaches the office, he bypasses the guards, who don’t even give him a second glance. Before the door closes behind him, he thinks he hears one of them mumble a quiet “God help him.”

The door closes, the man’s eyes meet Harry’s, and no.

Not even God can help him.

\---

Once Harry is finished dealing with _that_ , he’s back by Louis’ side.

He’s conscious when Harry comes back, and as soon as he sees his face, he knows.

“You didn’t have to do that, love.”

Harry runs a thumb along Louis’ jawbone, his eyes softening when Louis leans into the touch.

“You know that’s not true, Honey.”

He ignores the shake of Louis’ head, and takes off his jacket, draping it over the chair by the bed before he sits next to Louis. Louis grabs his hand once he’s sat down, and presses a kiss to his knuckles before resting them on his lap. “Do you always have to be so stubborn?”

Harry laughs, barely, and looks away briefly, blinking away the sudden tears that are making themselves known. “I could ask the same of you.”

Louis sighs. “It was either me or someone else.”

Harry’s jaw clenches, and Louis knows he’s biting back the reply he so wants to make.

_Better anyone else than you._

They’re both quiet a moment, before Harry finally looks at him again. “I love you, you know that.”

Louis nods, his gaze steady. “Of course. Always. It’s the only thing I can rely on.”

Harry smiles then, just a little, and nods. “Good.” He squeezes Louis’ hand, as he leans forward to press a kiss to his lips. Then, he stands. “I have some things to take care of, but I’ll be back, okay?”

Louis nods, and squeezes Harry’s hand once before letting him go. “Okay. Be back soon?”

Harry nods. “As soon as possible my Honey.”

\---

When Harry is finally able to be back by Louis’ side, it’s dark, and when he reaches the room, Niall is already there. Louis is asleep, which Harry is almost grateful for.

As soon as he sees Harry enter the room, Niall stands. Harry just shakes his head.

“No formalities, I’m not here as your leader.”

Niall nods, but now he’s giving him a _look_ , which Harry’s not exactly fond of. He doesn’t say anything though, just waits for Harry to remove his jacket, and flop down into the chair. He’s exhausted. The last two months have been a lot, but they have _nothing_ on just the last few days.

The two of them sit in relative silence for a bit, just taking in the quiet that surrounds their home base for once. Eventually though, Harry sits up, and looks over at Niall.

“Do you remember that favour I asked of you?”

Niall sucks in a breath, and nods. He doesn’t look happy, but Harry doesn’t particularly care.

“And you’re prepared?”

Niall doesn’t respond right away, but Harry’s a patient man, so he waits. After a good five minutes, Niall sighs.

“Yeah. Been prepared for about a year now.”

Harry nods. “Good. You’ll take him, and leave before dawn.”

Now Niall looks at him, his neck close to snapping with how quickly he looks over at Harry. “You’re joking.”

Harry scoffs. “Haven’t joked in about three years now, but _yeah_ this is how I start up again.”

Niall shakes his head. “You can’t seriously be making me go behind my friend’s back like this. I can’t do it Cya—”

“Niall.”

Niall freezes, his eyes wide as he stares at Harry. He looks around, on instinct, before looking back at Harry. “Are you bloody _insane_? Did you fuckin—”

“ _Please_.” Niall stops, and Harry shifts, turning around until he can grip Niall’s arm loosely. He stares at him a moment, then sighs. “Please. I’m not—I’m not making you do this. This isn’t me, your leader, making you do something.” He swallows. “This is.” He exhales, and looks over at Louis, before looking back at Niall, tears welled up in his eyes. “This is me _begging you_ , as your best friend, to _please_ get him out of here.”

Niall just looks at him a moment, then looks at Louis. He seems to deflate, then, and when he turns back to Harry, his eyes are wet too. “You don’t...you don’t think you’re going to make it. Do you?”

Harry breathes in a shuddery breath, and shakes his head. “The people need a leader. The New Society will crumble if they don’t have one. This is for the best.”

Niall just laughs, a disbelieving, _pained_ laugh, and brings his hand up to his face. He stays like that a moment, his shoulders shaking, as he grips Harry’s forearm tightly. After awhile, he removes his hand again, and nods at Harry. Harry nods back, and gives his arm a squeeze, before shifting fully back into his seat again.

They sit in silence again for a few more minutes, before Niall speaks again.

“You know he’s going to fight.”

Harry huffs out a fond laugh. “Yeah. He’s going to fight, and he’s going to scream and yell. When he can move again he’ll try to come find me too.”

“And when that happens?”

“Don’t fucking let him.”

\---

Niall and Louis leave at three AM, a weak and distraught Louis into the back of one of the old vehicles they’d managed to steal and get running in the past couple of months.

Harry had been hoping to get Louis at least into the car before he woke up, but they’re only halfway down the hallway before he starts to stir. Harry just holds him close, and tries to soothe him back to sleep.

Sadly, it doesn’t work, and as he wakes up, Louis looks around, definitely confused.

“C? What’s going on?”

Harry just shakes his head. “Nothing love, just go back to sleep okay? You need your rest.”

Instead of doing as he’s told (like usual) Louis just looks around, then back up at Harry. “Are we going to the parking garage? Why…” He must see something in Harry’s face, because his jaw drops, and his eyes widen. “You’re sending me away.”

Instead of responding, Harry just licks his lips, and keeps walking. Louis starts struggling then, as much as he can with his body being as weak as it is in it's post-injured state.

“No! No don’t you dare! You can’t make me fucking leave I’m—I’m going to heal and you’re going to—You can’t fucking _do this to me_!” Harry shakes his head as they reach the garage, still not saying a word, and Louis starts sobbing. “ _Please_ baby don’t—don’t make me _leave you_! I can’t—”

As soon as they’re through the door, Harry sees Niall, who’s looking completely _shattered_.

Harry finally looks at Louis then, and his heart breaks. He holds him closer, pulls his head to his chest and presses a fierce kiss to his forehead. “Darling please don’t cry, don’t be angry. I love you so much I’m not—this is for the best love.”

By the time they’ve reached the car, Louis isn’t yelling anymore, but he’s still crying and gripping Harry’s jacket so hard that his knuckles are white. Harry eases him into the backseat, still talking to him and reassuring him and trying _so fucking hard_ not to just climb into the car with him.

Louis just continues to shake his head, pulling at Harry’s jacket and crying and making this _so fucking hard_.

Harry winds up pulling his jacket off and laying it over Louis, pressing kisses to his grabbing hands as he starts pulling away. He’s just about to stand up straight and shut the door, when he Louis lets out a whimper.

“ _Harry please_.”

Harry jolts, because he hasn’t heard Louis say his name out loud in…

A long goddamn time.

He looks at Louis then. His lower lip is quivering, he’s clutching Harry’s jacket like a lifeline, and…

Harry’s killed. He’s watched people he cared for die. He’s tortured others.

But this. This is the hardest thing he’s ever had to do.

He surges forward, pressing a kiss to Louis’ shaking lips and holds his trembling hands. “I love you so much I love you I _love you_ , please don’t forget that, don’t forget that I love you, okay? I love you so much baby, Honey, my _Louis_.”

He pulls away then, for good, shuts the door, smacks the top of the car, and spins on his heel to head back inside as Niall drives away, because he can’t watch Louis go.

He doesn’t realize he’s crying until he shuts the door to their— _his_ bedroom. All he can do then, is collapse against the wall, and sob harder than he ever has in his life.

\---

_Three Years Ago, One Day Before the First Wave:_

“So you’re sure this will work?”

Steve nods. “Yes. Positive. Even if they do manage to fully rebuild after this, there’ll be plenty of cracks in their security for us to work through the next time, and they’ll spend so much time regrouping and rebuilding that it’ll be that much easier for the second and third waves to make an impact.”

Harry lets out a slow breath. “One wave each year. Three years. Then freedom.”

He looks up at the people around the room, at the thirteen people he trusts with this information.

Beside him, Louis rubs his arm, in slow soothing motions. Harry loves him so much in that moment, like he loves him all the time, just. At the forefront of his mind.

He has no idea what’s going to happen in the next three years, has no idea if he himself will even live to see all of them. But he knows Louis will.

That’s his priority, right next to freedom for the New Society.

Which is why he finds himself, just an hour later, pulling Niall aside and dragging him halfway across the building so no one —especially Louis— will hear.

Once he’s happy with the distance between them and everyone else, he finally lets go of the sleeve of Niall’s government regulated suit. He’s wearing a matching one, and he can’t wait until tomorrow, so he never has to wear the damn thing again.

Right now though, Niall’s glaring at him, and straightening out his suit. “Man, what’s gotten into you?”

Harry just rolls his eyes, and checks their surroundings before turning back to Niall. “I have a favour to ask of you.”

Niall raises his eyebrows, and shrugs. “Anything. What do you need from me?”

Harry sighs, and starts fidgeting, before making himself stop as he remembers what Liam’s told him time and time again.

_The people need a leader, and that’s you. They listen to you H, but if they’re scared they won’t. So you can’t be scared. Or, at least, don’t show them, even if you are scared._

“I need you to create a safe place.”

Niall just blinks at him, then gives him a confused look. “Like...find somewhere for everyone to live?”

Harry shakes his head. “No. I just need. You need to have a getaway spot, somewhere you and...and one other person could go and never be found.”

Niall just stares at him, then sighs. “I really wanna ask why.”

Harry huffs out a laugh, and pats him on the shoulder. “I’ll tell ya when the time comes, okay mate? You’ll do it, right?”

With a sigh, Niall nods. “Like I said Haz, anything.”

Harry pulls him into a hug, then, and that’s how Louis finds them five minutes later.

\---

_Present Day, Six Months After the Third Wave:_

The news that the war is over, that the government has finally been defeated, reaches them four months after Harry forced Louis to leave.

Louis is woken up by the sound of his bedroom door being flung open, and slamming unceremoniously into the wall. He bolts upright in bed, heart thudding wildly as he takes in Niall’s expression.

“What is it? What’s wrong? Have they found us?”

Niall just shakes his head, and tosses the little radio he usually keeps in the radio at him. Louis shakes his head in confusion, because radios have been essentially useless ever since the government had completely taken over. Niall just stares at him, wide eyed, and gestures at it. “Turn it up.”

Louis scoffs, but does as he was told. He’s expecting the normal crackling and buzzing of nothing but static, but instead, is met with an _actual broadcast_.

“The war is over. I repeat, the war is over. The Third Wave has been successful. The government’s leaders have been apprehended. People of the New Society, we have control.”

The voice pauses, then picks up again, repeating the same thing, over and over. Louis looks up at Niall, eyes wide, and mouth gaping.

“It’s over?”

Niall nods. “It’s over.”

Louis looks down at the radio, finally comprehending that the voice on the other end is Bebe. It’s the broadcast they’d had her record almost four years ago now.

“ _Fuck_.”

\---

_Two Days Later:_

“What the fuck do you mean, I can’t leave?”

Niall sighs, still standing in front of the door in front of Louis. “Exactly what I just said. You have to stay here.”

Louis sucks in a breath, and glares. “Bullet I swear to god if you don’t move out of my way—”

“I don’t care what you do. You’re not leaving.”

Louis lets out a short, angry groan, and drops his backpack onto the floor. “And why the _hell_ not? The war is bloody over, I need to fucking go!”

Niall shakes his head, still refusing to budge. “I have my orders D.”

Louis huffs. “What _orders_? You haven’t seen or spoken to Cyanide in four months, what kind of fucking orders could you _possibly_ be following?”

“I can’t let you leave! Not until someone comes for us. Those are my orders.”

With a strangled sounding half scream, Louis turns sharply on his heel and heads back to his bedroom. Thanks to fucking _Niall_ , the front door is the only way he can get out. Two weeks after they’d arrived, he’d locked up all of the windows, padlocked every exit, and now, keeps the keys firmly hidden from Louis.

He’s trapped. He hasn’t heard a word from or about Harry in months, and while he firmly believes he’s still alive, it’s fucking _awful_ not knowing.

A couple of hours later Niall comes into his room, bringing a plate of food and a whispered apology.

Louis ignores both.

\---

A week after the radio had started transmitting again, Liam shows up.

When Niall and Louis first hear the sound of the vehicle’s engine, they prepare to defend themselves immediately. Niall stations himself around the corner of the entryway, with Louis positioned just behind him, ready for anything.

What comes instead of an attack, is their coded knock.

Louis doesn’t allow himself to hope, but when he sees Liam on the other side of the door —no matter how overjoyed he is to see his friend alive— he can’t help the way his heart sinks anyway.

\---

Liam enters the small cabin, tucked away in the middle of nowhere and surrounded by nothing but woods, with a smile and a limp that he never used to have.

Niall and Louis both pull him into a bone crushing hug, all three of them laughing even as they tear up. When they finally do pull away, Liam keeps a hand on each of them until they wind up sitting around the kitchen table, fresh mugs of tea in front of them.

Liam sighs, his hands wrapped around his mug as he looks between Niall and Louis, a small smile on his face.

“So. It’s finally over.”

Louis sucks in a sharp breath. “For good? The plan worked, then?”

Liam nods. “Of course it did, just like you said it would.”

Niall leans forward. “What happened? Is...where is everyone?”

Liam slumps forward, just a little bit, and takes a breath.

“A month ago we got the okay to go ahead with the plan from Delir—Steve. The window was small but it was the best shot at getting inside the main headquarters we’d had, and both he and Sarah were positive we wouldn’t have another chance like that for a long ass time.” He shifts in his seat, leaning back and pulling his mug with him as he goes. “Me and Zayn took our sections to the center of the city, and caused a ruckus to draw out most of the Grunts.” He gestures towards his leg, and rolls his eyes. “One of the fuckers managed to hit me too, Zayn was so pissed.”

Louis lets out an amused huff, because _yeah_ , that would definitely piss Zayn off.

“What about the others? What about…” He bites his lip, and tries to ignore the pang in his heart when Liam gives him an apologetic look.

“Bebe, Clare, and...and Harry went inside. Killed the president, gained control of the headquarters, and a couple of weeks later they started sending out the broadcast.” He sighs, and shakes his head. “I’ve only heard back from Clare and Bebe, and they...they don’t know where Harry is, I’m sorry Lou.”

Louis blinks. Once, twice, then once more. He takes a breath, then a sip of his tea, then looks back at Liam.

“He’s alive.”

Liam looks at Niall, then looks back at Louis. “Lou, the chances—”

“He’s fucking _alive_ Liam. I know it.”

“Louis you know as well as I do what no contact means.”

Louis shakes his head. “No.”

Niall sighs. “Louis you—”

“ _No!_ ” Louis shouts, pushing himself to his feet as he does. He vaguely registers the sound of his chair falling backwards onto the floor, but is more focused on staring Liam down.

“Liam. Did you see him die?”

Liam rubs his hand over his face, suddenly looking tired. “Lou is this—”

Louis smacks the table, open palmed. “In the absence of Cyanide I am your leader, now _answer_ the goddamn question Arrow. That is a fucking order.”

Liam stares back at him a moment, jaw clenched, before finally shaking his head. “No. I didn’t see him die.”

Louis nods, then stands up, and shrugs. “Did you see his body?”

Liam licks his lips, and shakes his head. “No. I didn’t see his body.”

Louis stands there, hands trembling, letting the silence settle around them. Then, he takes a deep breath, so when he speaks again, his voice comes out quiet, with only a hint of emotion in it.

“Then you have _no right_ , absolutely none, to sit there and tell me that there’s no _fucking_ chance that your leader, my fucking _husband_ , is alive. You don’t get to do that.” He looks at Niall, then back at Liam. “I’m leaving tomorrow, before first light. If either of you tries to stop me I’ll fight you, and you both know as well as I do that I’ll win.”

He gives them both a moment to speak, and when they don’t, he turns on his heel and heads to his bedroom.

He’s going to need all the rest he can get.

\---

_Two Years Ago:_

Louis sighs, a little smile on his face and his eyes closed as Harry kisses his way up his left thigh, coming to a stop at his tummy, and just laying his head to rest right there. Louis rests a hand on his head, his fingers running through the short curls there.

Sometimes he misses his boyfriend’s long hair, but he’d never say it out loud, because as much as he misses the curls, he knows Harry misses them probably twice as much.

Somewhere in between the last kiss Harry had pressed to his hip, and Louis being about five seconds from sleep, Harry sniffs, then sighs contentedly.

“Honey?”

Louis raises his eyebrows, and resumes carding his fingers through Harry’s hair, but doesn’t open his eyes. “Yes darling?”

“I have a question for you.”

Louis’ smile grows, and he nods. “Out with it then.”

Instead of answering immediately, Harry shifts, so he’s up on all fours again, and crawls up Louis’ body, so he’s hovering over him. He leans down and presses a gentle kiss to each of Louis’ closed eyes, before whispering, “open.”

Louis obeys, his hands coming up to rest on Harry’s forearms as he does. “You had a question for me?”

Harry nods. “Marry me?”

Louis’ mouth drops open, into a little ‘o’, as he stares up at Harry’s adoring eyes.

“Really?”

Harry huffs out a little laugh, presses a kiss to Louis’ nose, grinning the whole while. “Really sweetheart. Be my husband.”

Louis lets out a laugh, and nods. “Of course, yes, _of course_.”

Harry grins then, and leans down to kiss him fully.

When they pull away, Louis squeezes Harry’s elbow. “Y’know, it’s a little difficult to get a ring these days.”

Harry laughs. “It is. Was thinking we could get Neon to tattoo us instead? A dagger for you, a rose for me?”

Louis nods, and whispers “ _perfect_ ” as he pulls Harry down for another kiss, that eventually leads to more.

Later, when the light is finally out, and they’re laying in bed with their hands clasped together, Louis taps Harry’s shoulder.

“Hey, C?” He waits for Harry to hum in response, then continues. “What happens if we get separated?”

Beside him, Harry shifts. “What d’you mean?”

“Like. During one of the Waves, or somethin’. If we can’t find each other, what do we do?”

Harry’s quiet for a bit, before turning, so he’s facing Louis, even though they can’t see each other.

“You remember that time we went hiking, back _before_ , and we found that little clearing with the cabin in it?”

Louis huffs out a fond laugh at the memory. “You mean the place where I’m pretty sure the skyline ends?”

He can practically feel Harry’s grin as he nods. “Yes that’s it. The place where the skyline ends. If we get separated, when the war is over, meet me where the skyline ends.”

Louis nods into the dark, then whispers back, “okay.”

\---

_Present Day:_

It takes Louis almost two weeks to reach the place where the skyline ends.

He’d left Niall and Liam with tearful hugs, and a promise that he’d come back if he hadn’t found Harry by the time winter came.

After months of being locked up, all of the constant moving made him a lot slower than he should’ve been, but he’s _here_ , he’s _made it_.

When he finally reaches the clearing, he’s pleasantly surprised to find that the little cabin is still standing, as well as still abandoned. In the last four years, he’s thought about it a lot, and always figured it probably got taken over by someone on the run from the government, if it wasn’t already found _by_ the government and tore down.

Luckily, neither of those things seem to have happened, because when he enters, there’s a layer of dust over everything. Part of him is disappointed that Harry hadn’t gotten there before him, but he pushes that down quickly, because the last thing he needs right now is a seed of doubt being planted.

Over the course of the next week, Louis busies himself.

He cleans out the entire cabin, airs out all of the old bedding that had been locked away in a trunk in a corner, and finds that there’s a bathroom, as well as piping leading to both there and the small kitchen. It’s not working, but he’s not worried about that, as he’s got all the time in the world to set about fixing it.

The woods surrounding the cabin is filled with wildlife, especially after the last few years of humanity being too occupied to bother it, so running out of the food he’s packed along isn’t a worry either. The threat of being found by Grunts is no longer there either, and after a few weeks, it becomes clear that the only thing he has to worry about, is whether or not Harry is coming.

\---

_Two Weeks Later:_

As it turns out, after four years of abandonment, it takes a long time to clean up a cabin. Back when he and Harry had first found it, it had only been in need of a good airing out, and maybe a light dusting.

Now, it seems like he’s finding a new project every other day. Whether it’s something that needs fixing, or something that needs cleaning, he’s never bored.

He falls into bed each night exhausted, enough that if he weren’t alone and conditioned after four years of being with the rebellion, he knows he’d fall into a dead sleep. As it is, he just rests well, if not hard, and wakes up every morning ready to tackle his next venture.

His task for today —and most likely the next three at least— is deep cleaning the kitchen. He’d done the bedroom his first week there, and after the kitchen, he plans on doing the bathroom.

Why he’s doing all of this, when he knows he won’t be here during the winter, he’s not sure.

Well. When he’s laying in bed on the rare nights he doesn’t immediately fall asleep, he’s sure.

It’s either keep busy, or wallow in complete misery, hoping and praying that the next day will finally be the day that Harry shows up. Logically, he knows the chances are slim. For Harry to have gone into the heart of the city, straight into the government’s home terf, and then completely go off grid for the next few months…

If it were anyone else, Louis would’ve considered them MIA, presumed dead, and held a ceremony in their honor.

This is _Harry_ though, his husband, his other half.

No matter what logic tells him, he refuses to give up hope. Not yet.

\---

_Two Weeks Later:_

Louis has been here a month.

One month.

One week into his stay, Louis had found some chalk in one of the drawers in the bedroom, and began keeping a tally on the bedroom wall next to the bed of how long he’s been here.

It’s not necessary, since over the course of the last few years, due to batteries becoming rare, and anything electronic only working enough for the occasional message, everyone’s gotten incredibly good at keeping track of time. It’s second nature to just have a running clock, almost, in the back of the mind at all times. Like, Louis can look at the sky, say it's five o’clock, and it’s as easy as breathing.

Now, though, at the place where the skyline ends, it’s nice to have a tangible thing to look at and _know_ exactly how long he’s been here.

Except for how he has tangible proof that Harry’s still not here, and it’s been a whole entire _month_.

It’s been one month of trying to keep himself busy; cleaning inside during the cooler days, and hunting during the warmer ones. One month of telling the stupid little voice in the back of his mind that _yes_ , Harry _is_ alive, and he _will_ be coming.

He will.

\---

_One Month Later, Month Two Where the Skyline Ends:_

When Louis wakes up, it’s six AM, there’s an ache in his right shoulder, a pounding in his skull from the pain, and as soon as he sits up in bed, he wants to go right back to sleep.

So, he checks the locks on the doors and the windows, —the war being over hasn’t made him any less vigilant it seems— makes sure everything is the way he left it when he went to bed the night before, and then he crawls back into bed and falls asleep immediately.

The next time he wakes up, it’s because he has this… _feeling_.

It’s deep in his bones, this gut feeling, and he gets out of bed slowly with his heart pounding because it’s been _months_ now, and he’s not used to feeling this way anymore.

The first thing he does is grab the knife that’s tucked under his pillow, then slowly and carefully gets out of bed, suddenly grateful that he hasn’t yet gotten out of the habit of sleeping with socks on when he’s able to do so soundlessly.

Quietly, and sticking to the shadows, he moves up to the bedroom window, and looks out. There’s nothing there, and when he looks out the front door next, there’s nothing there either.

There’s nothing out any of the windows, nothing when he looks out the backdoor either, and he’s just about to curse himself out and go back to bed, when he hears…yelling?

Yes. Yelling.

Louis’ heart begins to pound again, as he all but runs to the front door again. He stops, pressed up against the door just shy of the window, and listens.

It’s quiet for a moment, just long enough that he’s almost sure he dreamed it up, and then:

“ _Honey!_ ”

The knife falls to the floor, and Louis doesn’t even think of picking it back up.

Immediately, he’s scrambling with the locks, until he can pry the door open. He practically flies out of the cabin, onto the front porch, in his oversized T-shirt, a pair of shorts, and socks.

And there he is.

He’s standing there, in the middle of the clearing. There’s a big, goofy grin on his face, a backpack slung over his shoulder, his clothes are ripped in places, and his left eye is covered with a ratty old bandana.

He’s smiling though, always _bloody_ smiling, and that’s how Louis knows this is real.

Louis breathes in, a shuddery, teary sounding gasp, and brings his hands up to his chest, cradling them together under his chin as he fights to stay on the deck while Harry gets closer.

Eventually, Harry’s standing at the base of the steps —just four steps separate them— and smiles at Louis, his soft, gentle smile that Louis had almost believed he was never going to see again.

“Hello darling.”

Louis sniffs, and smiles back at him, feeling himself blushing almost like they’re sixteen again.

“Hi Harry.”

It seems as if the weight of the world falls off of Harry’s shoulders. His backpack falls to the ground with a thump, and he suddenly seems to stand taller. He continues to give Louis the same adoring smile he always has though.

“I’ve missed you, Lou.”

Louis nods, then holds his arms out. “Then come to me, _please_.”

The words leave his mouth one second, and then the very next, he’s being engulfed in warmth. The next moment, he’s crying, his shoulders shaking with the sobs as he clings to his husband and vows to never forget what his hugs feel like.

Harry’s whispering soothing words to him, always trying to comfort him, but Louis can hear the tears in his voice as well, and finds himself pulling back just enough to grip Harry’s hand and tug him towards the cabin doorway. Harry laughs wetly, and squeezes his hand as he lets himself be lead.

A few minutes later, they’re tucked in bed, curled up in each other, just like they should be. Harry presses a tender kiss to Louis’ neck from where he’s tucked under his chin, and Louis throws a leg over Harry’s waist, and from one second to the next, they’re both sound asleep.


End file.
